Sunday, August 10, 2014

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

It is truly a vexing question, particularly for us artists,
who have always relied upon the kindness of strangers to keep our boats
floating.

I’m not certain there exists any kind of definitive answer
to this question. If there does, it exists in the cracks of our awareness. It pops up
unbidden, like a daffodil from crumbling bits of pavement. It occurs to us
subconsciously when we come to the end of that novel or that play and we wish
that it would continue on longer. It sings to us lightly when we remember that
song we heard by that musician that one time, and whatever became of her?

I suppose I’m making the “beauty” argument here, ie that
experiencing beauty is somehow fundamental to the experience of being human,
that the arts direct our perception of beauty in a certain way, that,
therefore, the arts are a fundamental human need. Why? Who knows? As
Shakespeare says in The Rape of Lucrece, “Beauty itself doth of itself persuade
the eyes of men without orator.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t answer the question in any
satisfying way. Rather it sounds like I’m saying people should support the arts
“just because.” And maybe they should.

Still, since the current economic downturn began in 2008,
money – or, more specifically, “wealth” – has become a part of public discourse
in terms more polarizing than I can remember from years past. “The one percent” has entered our lexicon. It
is a tangible thing, this top tier, and calls up a wide variety of
associations, predicated primarily upon whether or not one is a member of the
club.

Whether or not this current awareness is a good thing or a
bad thing, I leave for people smarter than I am to discuss. Still, I’ll repeat
here that artists have relied upon “the one percent” to bankroll their
activities since long before Pope Julius II commissioned Michelangelo to paint
the Sistine Chapel. Let’s put that aside for a moment.

What is more interesting to me, here in the early 21st
century, is that we now live in a digital age. With the advent of the Internet,
people can create and disseminate their works of art much more expediently than
at any other time in human history.

Moreover, more arts funding than ever before now comes from
grassroots, online crowdfunding efforts. According to Katherine Boyle in a
July, 2013 issue of the Washington Post, crowdfunding website Kickstarter now
“raises more money for artists than the National Endowment for the Arts.”

This excites me for numerous reasons.

First, as an artist myself, and thus firmly a member of “the
ninety-nine percent,” this means that I can actually help to support my fellow
artists. It means that I don’t need to have a spare twenty million dollars in
order to help fund a project. In teaming up with like-minded people, our
cumulative spare change can actually fund a brand new work of art.

Second, as the executive director of an arts nonprofit, this
means that I can say to you, with complete honesty, “yes, your twenty dollar
donation will actually be helpful to us.” With whatever you have to give,
combined with what your friends and ours might have to give, we can, in fact,
continue to make theater that will reflect something about the world we all
live in, that will move you and make you think, that will be, in its way,
beautiful.

It now sounds as if I’m answering the question by saying, “you
should give to the arts because even a little bit is helpful.” And that is also
sort of true.

Perhaps I should re-frame the question a little bit and ask “why
theater?” instead.

In this I will cheat a bit, and borrow from Howard Shalwitz,
Artistic Director of Washington DC’s ground-breaking Woolly Mammoth Theatre
Company. He goes into greater detail at this link, but here, in a nutshell, is
his list of “7 Reasons Why Theater Makes Our Lives Better:”

The
theater does no harm, it expresses a basic human instinct, it brings people
together, it models democratic discourse, it contributes to education and
literacy, it sparks economic revitalization, and it influences how we think and
feel about our own lives.

I would add to that the theater
reflects our beauty and, when done well, is just really, really cool.

I can only speak for myself, but I think
that’s worth kicking in twenty bucks for.